We Both Go Down Together
by rock-the-casbah18
Summary: After the final battle, Voldemort has won and has started the placing all those who aren't pureblood in labor camps. Hermione Granger is one of those people. What will Draco Malfoy do when he finds her there?
1. Chapter 1

**We Both Go Down Together**

Based on the song: "We Both Go Down Together" by The Decemberists

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, which I should really credit my muse for.

_Here on these cliffs of Dover_

_So high, you can't see over_

_And while your head is spinning_

_Hold tight, it's just beginning_

_The Decemberists_

He had never seen anything like it in his entire life. Sure, Draco Malfoy had known from the get-go that if Lord Voldemort won the Darkest Battle in all of history, everything would be much different. Although, he didn't expect to find Death Eaters from all over rounding up muggles and mudbloods and shipping them to these small labor camps, to do the Dark Lord's bidding. This was crazy. Draco, being a prestigious Death Eater, a close acquaintance of Lord Voldemort merely stood on the top of the barren cliff, looking down into the valley, peering amazedly at the rows and rows of tin shanties below.

Carts bearing metal cages full of scraggly dirty humans were chugging slowly into the camp, bringing with them the foul smell of death and disease. The year had ended seven months ago and this procession had been the same every single day. It never failed to shock Draco though. Of course he had seen more inhumane things in the last few months than ever before, but this? This was insane. How could someone do this? Draco supposed that he was to be hardened so that these kinds of things were normal to him. But he still couldn't get the pictures of the loads of people being loaded into this place out of his mind. Granted, he had the better end of the deal, not having to live in the tin shacks like the others, but still. This was wild.

A chilly breeze blew in from the pond situated not too far away, the one that sat next to the manor that the Malfoy's had taken to living in since the Dark Lord had made Lucius Malfoy overseer of the camp. Draco shivered and unconsciously pulled his cloak tighter around him. The Scottish Highland autumns could be hell, and Draco didn't want to be sicker than he already was, even if it was only mentally. Draco turned on his heel, the heel of his very expensive hand-made shoes that is, and headed back towards the manor. He hated his walk to his home; it only gave him the time to reflect on the last battle, the one that had changed it all.

_Flashback_

_"Harry! Don't do it," Hermione Granger, filthy mudblood and best friend to the boy who lived, screamed as loudly as possible, trying to warn Harry about the impending dangers that lay ahead. _

_"Don't do it? Why not, Hermione? This is my last chance; I've got to show him, once and for all, that he cannot do these things without punishment."_

_The last few months had been nothing but hell for the Golden Trio. They definitely weren't the shiny trio that they used to be. Ever since Harry and Ron had set out five months to the date, to destroy all of the horcruxes that Voldemort had scattered all along, Hermione had been slowly, and quietly, slipping into insanity. It was like death for her, the fact that her two best friends had left her when she was only seventeen, and gone on a journey that could just lead to their deaths. So while Hermione sat around and moped at Grimmauld Place, her two friends were out in the world, getting themselves killed. Well, that's what she thought anyway._

_So anyone can imagine the joy Hermione had felt when her two best friends had shown up on the doorstep of the Order's secret hideaway. And anyone can also imagine the disappointment and fear she felt when she heard that the final battle was to be that night._

_"What the hell do you mean," she had hissed, wondering why in the world _tonight _had to be the battle. Hermione hadn't seen her boys in months and all she wanted was a night to reminisce and bask in the presence of one another. Harry had simply brushed off Hermione's questions and simply murmuring, "it has to be done tonight."_

_After much persuasion from Harry and Ron, Hermione had gone with them into battle. Any other night she would have leapt at the chance to avenge Harry's parents, but not so soon. She needed notice so she could have some sort of mental preparation. But now, her they were, Harry stalking up to a dark and foreboding willow, ready to brush apart the limply hanging leaves and greet Voldemort on the other side. Harry was ready to plunge into the darkness, if need be, and kill Voldemort with a simple Avada Kedavra. All around him in the field laid the bloody cadavers of Death Eaters and fighters for the Light Side alike. Those were the bodies of those who had given every last bit of themselves for their causes, and perished alongside their friends and families. Harry was ready to kill, really kill and get the revenge he deserved. _

_Ignoring his friends yells of warning, and the moans and screams coming from the tortured, Harry raised a hand and deftly brushed aside the damp leaves of the willow. At this point Hermione had closed her eyes tightly shut and listened as screams were brought forth from Harry as he was tortured so skillfully until he died._

_End Flashback_

Draco Malfoy wished with all his might the Ronald Weasley, who had been beside Hermione throughout the entire battle, hadn't related this story to him. It made the things he did each day seem even more ruthless. Draco remembered the night clearly, the night that he had Weasley at wand-point for an interrogation. All Weasley would say, which he said over and over again, was the story of Hermione's troubles throughout the year. Did the sick little Weasel really love Mudblood Granger that much, Draco had often wondered to himself. The eighteen-year-old hadn't exactly chosen his life, but he lived up to his father's standards. At least, he did now that his father had come out of his incarceration.

Draco opened the dark cherry wood door to the manor and was immediately greeted by the echo of a hand slapping flesh and the pained scream of a young woman. This wasn't new to the young Mr. Malfoy, as his father was repeatedly bringing up pretty muggle and half-blood witches to add to his list of those he had raped. Draco understood that this was a sick, disgusting, revolting business that his father partook in, but it wasn't as if he could simply ask his father to stop his crimes.

Draco stalked across the marble entry hall, his shoes clicking importantly on the solid stone floor. He saw a dim light creeping out from the open door of the library, and slowly made his way down the hall, not wanting to let his father know that he had gotten home yet. Slowly, and as quiet as a snake, Draco glimpsed into the room and met the eyes of someone he had known since his first year at Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger was sprawled out on the floor, a torn, mud-stained pair of dark denim jeans and a ripped black shirt decorating her body, alongside with small splotches of blood. Her hair was still as bushy as ever, and the past two months in her small shanty with a group of three other girls hadn't helped its condition. Dark amber eyes burned into Draco's own silver-grey orbs, and pricked with tears when she realized that he wouldn't save her. Her head swam with multi-colored stars from Lucius' last blow, and Draco started to go fuzzy. No, he wouldn't suddenly demand for his father to stop, pick her up, and return her to the tatters that they now called the Muggle world. No, he wouldn't… and this was only the beginning…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two Of: We Both Go Down Together

**Disclaimer:** I really don't own much of this. Song credited to The Decemberists, and the characters are all JKR's. It's okay, I'll live…

**A/N**: I got reviews! And they were good! Yay! This being my first story and all, I think I must've bounced up and down whilst squeeing quite a few times. Thank you **averyjane**, **Draco's-Loyal-Longing** and **StarrCat**. If I could give you cherry lollipops, I most definitely would. D!

Well here goes… I didn't like the first chappie that much, but it'll do. Today I'm feeling inspired, so hopefully I can work out any kinks in the story in this chapter.

_You come from parents wanton_

_A childhood rough and rotten_

_I come from wealth and beauty_

_Untouched by work or duty_

_The Decemberists_

He hated porridge, Draco decided. As he sat at the mahogany dining table in the eating room, Draco stared, or more, he _glared_ at the goop that the lowly house elf, who called herself Diddly, had placed in front of him. Porridge was a poor man's breakfast, not the food of one of the richest wizarding families in the world. His spoon dropped into the porridge with a 'plop' and Draco's aristocratic face scrunched up in disgust. Looking up from his so-called breakfast, Draco stared at his father, stared at the man he was to become.

His father looked almost exactly like him; save for the few features that gave away his age. Lucius' face was sharp, and somewhat pointy, just like Draco's. His eyes were the same metallic grey as Draco's, his hair the same pale blonde as Draco's. They could be almost identical, except that Draco's hair was shorter and merely scruffy, where as Lucius had a long mane of hair that he kept in a low ponytail. There was also the matter of the age lines that marked Lucius' face, but stayed free from Draco's smooth, angelic face.

Although Draco looked exactly like the handsome man, the handsome _father_, who sat across from him, reading the pureblood-run newspaper, Draco was nothing like Lucius at all. Lucius had no feelings. His face would never contort into a smile, a frown… anything. No emotion ever flickered in his empty eyes; he had no feelings at all. Draco, as much as he was practiced at hiding what he felt, couldn't do it for the world. And that was why, at the moment, the two men were eating in silence. Draco had seen something last night that Lucius thought he shouldn't have, and Draco was very stirred by the fact that his father had brutally raped one of his school mates. Well, Hermione Granger wasn't really one of his mates, but he had gone to school with her. His father had raped someone young enough to be his own daughter, and that was terribly wrong.

"You knew who she was Draco, didn't you," Lucius drawled out, ever-so Slytherin. Why was his father even asking him this? Of course he knew who she was. Dammit, who didn't these days? She had been "the-boy-who-almost-lived's" mudblood best friend.

"Yes, father, I knew her. Not personally, no, but she went to school the same year as me," Draco responded, averting his eyes from his father's burning glare. Lucius had to be the spawn of Satan himself, because Draco felt as if he was shriveling up under his father's angry stare.

"Why didn't you do something, Draco? Save the young lady, perhaps? I know very well how much you wished to; remember Draco, that I am your father and that you can't mask your emotions at all." Lucius bit out that last part and continued his murder of Draco, using only his eyes as the weapon.

"I did not wish to save that filthy, mudblood piece of trash, father. I'm astounded that you would go as far as to assume that," Draco said, feigning hurt, even though he was more frightened of what his father would do to him than anything. As always, Lucius had been right in presuming that Draco had wanted to save Hermione, and Draco knew that his father's punishments weren't always the easiest things to handle. In fact, during his fifth year, Lucius had gone as far as to _Crucio _his own son when Draco hadn't done as he was told to do and cleaned up his bedroom.

"Even though you may claim to not have wanted to act upon your wishes last night, Draco, I fear that I still have a punishment for you to serve." Lucius smirked evilly, and Draco almost heaved when he noticed that he smirked the exact same way his father did. "You are to work as a guard down in the camp for three weeks. I expect you to work alongside some of your fellow, though much lower in rank, Death Eaters for a change. Maybe this will show you that you actually must do work if you wish to get anywhere in the world."

Had Draco been eating his breakfast, at this point in his father's speech, he would have spewed his porridge, or at least choked on it. He was supposed to work? Down _there_? That was blasphemous!

"Are you serious, father," Draco said, chuckling at the insanity of his father's proposal.

"Dead," Lucius said back, making Draco shrink back in his chair. "I expect you to pack a few belongings of yours, as you will be staying down there overnight. Go now."

Draco reluctantly retired to his quarters, to pack up a few belongings, such as clean clothing and some sleeping potions. He couldn't believe that he was being sent down to the labor camp, to work day and night as a guard. That was simply preposterous. It wasn't as if Draco would do anything though, as he had the backbone of a worm when it came to his father. No one defied what Lucius Malfoy said. Ever. Especially when you were the sole heir to the inheritance that the Malfoy family had had forever. Draco was tossing his necessities into a duffel bag, quite sorely, when he heard his father's voice ring up from the stairwell, calling up to him.

"Your escort has arrived, Draco. Mr. Rookwood will be taking you down to the guard station and quarters. There he will explain to you your duties as a guard." At the sound of Lucius voice, Draco started, but quickly composed himself and hefted the duffel over his shoulder as he journeyed down the stairs. There was an unclean man standing next to his father, grinning at Draco with the few mottled brown teeth he had left. Draco was almost positive that his father had handpicked the ugliest, dirtiest guard to escort him to the camp. There really was no point to this punishment and Draco believed it to be another plan hatched from his father's evil mind.

Augustus Rookwood really was a very putrid looking person. He had limp, greasy black hair that hung halfway down his back, and beady, little, equally as black, eyes. He was grinning stupidly up at the young Master Malfoy, very excited to be in the presence of not one, but two very powerful wizards. Grumbling to himself, Draco strutted over to Rookwood, mumbling profanities to himself. He had never once in his entire life worked, and he didn't really want to start now. At least he didn't have it as bad as Mudblood Granger did, who had started this whole thing to begin with.

As Draco walked from the house, slightly behind Rookwood, he thought to himself all of the bad things he could about Granger. That filthy animal, he started, why did she have to be such a bloody, sodding whore? If she hadn't transformed into a woman, his father would have never looked at her. Merlin, everything was always her fault. Bloody Gryffindor just had to pick now to get an arse and an ample chest, didn't she? I bet she did it just to spite me, Draco thought, I bet she even enjoyed being raped by such a high-standing pureblood as my father.

Yeah, Draco thought, Granger hadn't exactly had the 'plush life', what with the purebloods, like himself, constantly teasing her, but it wasn't as if she was nice back to them. To tell the honest truth, Draco didn't actually know much about Granger's past, but he knew that she was a mudblood and that he couldn't ever acknowledge her as human. Because, in his world, she wasn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three of: We Both Go Down Together**

**Disclaimer: **I'm not positive, so I'm doing this for every chapter. I own nothing. Though, I wouldn't mind owning Tom Felton… eheheh.

**A/N: **I got more reviews! Woo-freaking-hoo! Many, many, many thanks **StarrCat** and **lilmissgullible**! And you're welcome StarrCat, for that delicious lollipop. Anytime, dearie, anytime.

Mmk, well this chapter, which, as all the other chapters, follows along with the lyrics of the song "We Both Go Down Together", is going to be difficult to put into one piece. So, hey, if it comes out as one chapter in the end, kudos for me, but I may have to put it into two pieces.

_I found you, a tattooed tramp_

_A dirty daughter from the labor camp_

_I laid you down in the grass of a clearing_

_You wept, but you're soul was willing_

_The Decemberists_

Insanity is what it was. The life of a guard was not simple, or easy, or anything else meaning "not hard to do". It was quite the opposite of easy, as it was rather demanding and involved a lot of effort. Draco had only been there for two days, two _fucking_ days, and he was already sore and tired and worn down. He had yet to have a somewhat enjoyable day and had begun to curse his father into oblivion every chance he got. Draco had already had to separate seventeen men from their own separate brawls, escort three wounded to their shanties and kick one muggle so hard that he cried. Well, that last one he did on his own accord, most likely out of anger at his father, but he really didn't have to kick the elderly man that hard. Draco was just a frustrated young man, and hey, if there was an innocent person to take his anger out on, he would jump at the chance.

So it came to be, on the third day of his guard shift, that Draco had to actually _save_ someone, instead of beating them or watching them beat each other. Draco had been swaggering proudly down the street, gazing observantly at the muggles and mudbloods that shrunk back under his glare, some of them retreating back to their shacks. He watched as dry brown dirt was kicked up by the uniform boots he had been given on his first day at the camp. Draco was so enthralled with the spirals and billowing clouds of soil that he kicked up, that he almost missed the shrill screams of a girl coming from ahead.

"Get off me," Draco heard a female voice shriek out, sounding all too familiar, but unknown at the same time.

"Now how's a come a purty little broad such as you'self is out all on 'er lonesome," a males voice tauntingly said. Dragging his gaze up from the ground Draco looked down the road that was situated between two rows of shacks. Up ahead he could make out the curled form, that appeared female, in the middle of the lane and the towering form of a man standing above her menacingly. Oh Merlin, Draco thought to himself. His first case of a rape. He'd heard, from the other guards, that in the past couple of weeks the amount of rape crimes had sky-rocketed since the beginning of the camp. Personally, Draco believed this to be the fault of the Dark Lord himself, when he decided that females would reside on one side of the camp and males on the other.

Draco sighed deeply, and jogged towards the "scene" of the crime, fulfilling his duty as a camp guard.

"Back off, mate, or I'll have to use force," Draco said sternly, drawing his wand from the pocket of his charcoal uniform pants.

"Didna mean no harm, guard sir. Just talkin' to this purty lady here. So I suggest you be the one to back off. It ain't none of you're business who I converse with and who I don't." The skinny, scraggly man bared his teeth at Draco and had most definitely made the wrong choice. Closing the distance between the man and himself, Draco jumped towards the man, shoving his wand in the sunken-in area of the man's throat.

"I am a guard. You are a muggle. I do not ever want to hear you talk to your superiors like that again. Now, I want you to go back to your side of the development, go into your house and don't come out for a day or two. If I see you again on my side of this place, I'll curse you so fast and so hard you'll wish you were dead." Now, whoever said that Draco was a wuss, or was a weakling, was sorely mistaken. Of course, Draco could be overtaken quickly by any of the other guards, but mentally, he was quick-witted and very severe. The dirty man scrambled away like a frightened puppy and Draco turned his attention to the woman sprawled out on the ground.

"Are you okay," Draco asked observing the beaten young lady in front of him. She looked to be about his age, had matted chocolate colored hair, which was dirty but still full of curls. The girl was wearing an ivory scrap of fabric tied around her torso in a makeshift top and a pair of cut-off denims. She had to be freezing, as it was nearing late October and Draco himself wasn't even warm in his wool guard uniform. Draco looked at the girl's chattering teeth and blue tinted lips that confirmed his suspicions; the girl was frozen and angry. A dark purple and yellow bruise was folded over the girl's shoulder in the shape of a hand-print, and tears welled up in her _amber_ eyes. Amber. Damn it all to hell, it was Granger.

"So, once again I'm at your feet, Malfoy," Hermione whispered hoarsely, forcing a small smile out.

"Merlin, Granger. Are you okay," Draco said, shocked that Granger had the strength to turn her rape, and her almost-rape, into a joke.

"Perfectly fine, Ferret. I'm wonderful. It's not everyday that I get pushed to the ground by a drunken stranger and raped. Well, almost, in this case. And I guess that your father wasn't exactly drunk when he _fucked_ me," Hermione bit back sarcastically. Draco's father had taken her virginity, her most precious thing, in the most awful way possible and Hermione wasn't about to let Draco off the hook, even if he had looked concerned when he found her lying on his library floor. Hermione had been hurt more than she ever had been before that night, and after that, she had found herself weakened and easily overcome. During the past couple of days, she had slept with more lonely men than she could count, and it was solely because she didn't want to fight back.

After Hermione had been raped, she didn't fight men anymore. Lucius had beat her senseless when she defended herself, so she just stopped. When Hermione saw Draco leaning down over her, she felt a spark of that old school rivalry light within herself. That son of a bitch. He had treated her like shit all through-out school and he just_ had _to be the one to save her.

"Come on, Granger," I'll take you back to your house," Draco said, reaching a sun tanned hand out to pull her up.

"House? Hah! If that's what you can call the _tin can_ that I live in," Hermione said icily, her tone of voice matching her body temperature.

"Stop being difficult. Now get up and I'll take you back." Draco took control of the situation and pulled Hermione up off the ground, walking ahead of her as if leading the way for a new citizen of the camp.

"You know, Malfoy, I don't live the greatest life. You may not want to see the place I live in. It's like a living hell," Hermione said challengingly, looking at Draco as if he couldn't handle anything.

"Granger, it's not as if it's any different than what I've seen in the past couple of days. I've separated more bloody bastards than I care to think about. Nothing in your house could surprise me." Draco smirked to himself, wondering who the hell Granger thought she was. Of course, the culture shock Draco had experienced upon first arriving at the camp had been huge, but he had gotten over the filth and disease quickly. Hermione stopped in her tracks, facing Draco, pushing a strand of greasy hair out of her face and placing her hand on her hips.

"Fine then. If you think you can take it, you can come in and sit for a few moments. I know you've been working all day, and as much as I despise the idea of you sitting in our _only_ chair, I do owe you for saving me." Hermione turned on the heel of her bare feet and marched into the tin hovel that had appeared on Draco's right. Draco, being the cocky prick that he was, followed Hermione into the hovel, not expecting the sights that awaited him. As soon as Draco walked in, he was met by the sight of two, or maybe even three other couples in various stages of sexual intercourse. Some were going all the way, grinding into one another and moaning through their orgasms. Others were simply kissing feverishly while groping each other. It was sickening.

"Told you that you haven't seen anything like it. You didn't expect Gryffindor prude Hermione Granger to be living in a whorehouse did you?" As much as Hermione smirked smugly and stared holes into Draco, she couldn't fool him. She hated living in this house, with this band of tramps. As if reading Draco's shocked look, Hermione said matter-of-factly, "I'm one of them Draco. I'm just like them."

"B-but…," Draco muttered. No way was Hermione some sort of cheap hooker. This wasn't possible. Granger wouldn't stoop so low, not even if hell froze over. Never.

"Sorry, Granger, but I think I've overstayed my welcome," Draco mumbled as he bolted from the shack. What he had just seen wasn't even a turn-on, it was just nasty. This place was hell. And as ruthless as Draco had been, he didn't deserve to be in hell.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four of: We Both Go Down Together**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Well, the story is, but nothing else.

**A/N: **First of all, thank you reviewers! I've gotten nothing but support from you all so far and that makes me feel mighty wonderful. :D! Thanks to **StarrCat**, whose faithful reviewing makes me grin, **FairyofObsession**, whose review was inspirational, **Draco's-Loyal-Longing, **for the great reviews and encouragement, and **jessnlozza**, my newest reviewer.

Okay, now for the news on my story. This chapter is really just a continuation of the last chapter, which, for all of you that have been applying the song lyrics to the story, know that I didn't really use all the lines. So this is using the last two lines of the last stanza, and applying some facets of the first two lines. Btw, I have already begun formulating another story to another song, which I think will come out better than this story did. It really is a pain for me to write this, because I really don't like how it turned out. I'll try to resuscitate this story… if only I could actually breathe the kiss of life into it…

_I found you a tattooed tramp_

_A dirty daughter from the labor camp_

_I laid you down in the grass of a clearing_

_You wept but your soul was willing_

_The Decemberists_

Only five more days. That was it, and then, Draco could go home and sleep on a feather mattress and eat food that one could actually swallow. He would be a "free man" once again, able to take showers in his own expensive bathroom, not in the group "locker room" that all of the guards shared. Finally, the days of wearing a scratchy wool uniform were coming to a close. Thank Merlin for everything he ever stood for.

But part of Draco didn't want to go back to his father's estate, to live in the ever dimming glow of luxury all alone, and this was mostly because he had met Hermione. He had really _met_ her. Actually-had-an-entire-conversation, actually-did-her-a-favor, considered-them-to-be-closet-friends, met her. And for some mind-boggling reason he didn't want to leave the camp, and the girl he had just started to befriend. The past couple of days had shown Hermione in a new light to Draco, and to tell the absolute truth, he liked that light better than the one he found at his father's manor.

As soon as Draco had run from Hermione's so-called living quarters, he had known one thing. She couldn't stay there. That house did nothing for her, except make her reputation _shit_. What had happened to Weasley? Wasn't he the one that was supposed to take care of her since Potter had died? Oh, that's right. As righteous as Weasley was, he was still a pureblood and hadn't been forced to become one of the many faceless people at the labor camp. So Hermione was all alone now, maybe once in a while coming across an old school acquaintance, but other than that she was alone. Just like Draco was. And maybe that was why he had taken pity on the frail woman and decided that he had to find her a better place to live.

So, Draco had found Hermione a new shack, not exactly a nicer one, but one filled with elderly woman who needed tending to. It was the best he could do without appearing to be a mudblood-lover. Hermione had realized what Draco had done for her, and accepted his offer to move her, a silent bond building between the two. In the past couple of days, Draco had seen more of Hermione than he would've liked, but this wasn't the past, and Draco wasn't the tortured, little schoolboy he had once been. He found himself being accompanied by Hermione on more and more of his shifts, being pulled into little alleyways where Hermione would stand waiting, wanting to hear news of what was going one, wanting to know what to tell her roommates. Draco came to find that he didn't mind Hermione's company in the least bit, and came to find that Hermione was just like any other human being, except that her bloodlines weren't as pure.

So Draco's surprise was imaginable, when he saw Hermione speeding off from the camp on the rainiest of days, mud encrusted bare feet pounding into the ground with each bound, curling, wet hair trailing behind her. A few of the other guards were yelling after her, summoning her back, trying to use spells to bring her back to the camp. But Hermione was too far gone, too far and much to close to the forest that could lead her to freedom.

"Malfoy, you're the youngest, you chase after the bitch! Bring her back to the station," and older, gray bearded guard had screamed to Draco. Draco knew what they would do at the station. They would kill her. Kill his Hermione, his new found friend. Any runaways were tied to a steel chair, _Crucio_'d a few times, and then _Avada Kedavra'_d quickly. Malfoy immediately took off, boots slamming into the wet ground as he followed Hermione into the forest. He was dodging tall oaks, jumping over fallen limbs, running around the various shrubs that littered the forest floor. Hermione was just up ahead, her long legs carrying her as quickly as they could. As fast as Hermione was, Draco had a good few inches on her height and was slightly faster.

The forest opened up to a clearing, and Hermione was right in front of Draco, right in his reach. Draco reached out, his hand grabbing onto Hermione's rain-slicked upper arm. What he didn't expect was for Hermione to try and pull away, but slipping on the wet grass, and tumbling to the ground of the clearing. Draco fell too, having had too strong of a grip on Hermione's arm, and the two tumbled together until the lay side by side, limbs still entangled with the others. While Draco was busy untangling himself from Hermione, he heard a slight whimper emanate from her. Draco stopped what he was doing and looked at Hermione; she was crying. Faint tears trickled down Hermione's smooth face, resembling tiny droplets of rain that were showering down from the gray clouded sky.

Draco did what any other human person would, he wrapped his arms around Hermione and pulled her over to him, letting her cry into his chest. Not realizing what a compromising situation he was putting himself in, Draco kissed the top of Hermione's soaked head, and murmured comforting words to her. And as odd as this position may seem, the rain still fell, the grass still grew, and the world never ceased turning.

"Draco," Hermione whispered timidly, as was uncommon for her, "Take me."

"E-Excuse me," Draco asked gently, wondering if maybe he had just heard Hermione's plea wrong, and she just meant for him to return her to the labor camp.

"I-I've never been with someone that I truly wanted. And I can't deny that I don't want you. You've been so great to me these past couple of days, what with getting me a new place to stay and actually listening to what I have to say. I've found a friend in you in the past week, and I want to be with you." Hermione looked up at Draco with red-rimmed eyed from crying, and he saw that her eyes were still swimming with tears. She had turned into a fragile person in the last couple of months that she had spent at the camp and at the moment she just needed something. Hermione desperately needed Draco, and she wasn't afraid to admit it.

So it was in that clearing that Hermione shared a moment that no one had ever given her before, and Draco found himself deeply, insanely, madly in love with Hermione Granger, a mudblood.


	5. Chapter 5

Drum roll, please…. **Chapter Five of: We Both Go Down Together**

Oh buddy boy! I finally have an update! Woo-hoo! Thank you to the loverly reviewers:

**lilmissgullible**

**ApparentHeir91**

**Airlady**

**StarrCat**

**7lucky13**

**Rhonda21**

**Crazy-foe-u**

**Iris**

**Thiriel Malfoy**

**Draco's-Loyal-Longing**

_Many smoochers to you all!_

Okay, so here is the newest update. The end, perhaps? I've found about three more songs I want to write songfics to, and it will be difficult if I keep up with this one for long! So here goes…

_And my parents will never consent to this love  
But I hold your hand _

Meet me on my vast veranda  
My sweet untouched Miranda  
and while the seagulls are crying  
we fall but our souls are flying

**-The Decemberists**

For the briefest of moments, Draco wondered how he was going to manage. It was true, some cosmic chemical explosion inside of some part of his brain had caused him to fall in love with Hermione. It was both of their first times being with the other; how could he possibly feel that way about someone, about Hermione? His dad would never approve, ever. And he said that.

"My father won't approve of this," Draco whispered to Hermione, as they walked, fully clothed, back in the direction of the camp. After they had been together, as one couldn't go as far as to call it made love, or say it as crude as fucking, Hermione and Draco had talked. He told her that he wouldn't let them murder her, because that was uncivil and he wouldn't be able to live with himself. When she looked at him, surprised that he hadn't said he loved her, he stared bravely back at her, refusing to let those three words pass through his lips.

"Yes, well it isn't love, now is it?" Hermione glared at Draco, practically scorching his uniform. She yanked her hand out of his, from where they had been walking back to camp with there fingers entwined. He was such a stubborn asshole that he wouldn't just say he loved her.

"Don't pull me into this, Hermione." Hermione made a move to protest, but Draco raised a finger to her lips.

"Just don't make me say it. I can't. Not yet, at least." Draco sighed and held back a smile when Hermione once again took his hand.

"You aren't going to let them harm me in any way, are you," Hermione questioned timidly. Even though Draco had promised that he wouldn't let the other guards lay so much as a hand on her, she had a tough time believing her old school rival.

"No. I've formed a plan. We'll stick to the perimeter of the camp, and go back to the Manor. My father isn't going to be happy, the press is going to have a field day and the whole world will hate me, but I think you're worth the risk." Draco looked at Hermione and saw that her amber eyes were carefully studying him. She loved the way his platinum blonde hair fell in his eyes; it made her itch to run her fingers through his silky locks.

"You don't care what your father will say," Hermione asked, disbelieving.

"Not anymore."

"Why the hell is she here? What kind of son do you think you are, dragging a filthy mudblood up here? In our manor? What use do we have for her?" Lucius wasn't mad. He wasn't angry or upset. He was fucking _infuriated_. That son, that boy that called himself a Malfoy had shown up ten minutes ago, on the front porch, soaked to the bone, cheeks flushed from left over arousal, the mudblood Granger a decoration on his arm. To say the least, Lucius was ready to kill Draco. And he hoped that there would be blood, lots of it.

Draco decided that red wasn't a good color on his father, and hoped that his father's bloodshot face would return to its normal pale hue again. Hermione was trying her hardest not to cower under Lucius' gaze by standing up as straight as possible. But that was difficult when standing in the entry hall of the Malfoy Manor, the chance of being killed nearing one hundred percent.

"Father, if you so much as say 'mudblood' one more time, I will _Avada _you so bloody fast, that you won't have time to regret anything." Draco's pale eyes flashed angrily.

"You are a traitor, Draco. A disgrace to the Malfoy name. Does that hold no value to you whatsoever," Lucius spat out.

"I love her. I love Hermione Jane Granger, and there is nothing in this entire world you can do to stop it. You can kill me, true, but I won't ever leave you alone. The guilt of offing your own son will haunt you for the rest of your life," Draco replied in a coldly calm voice.

"And are you going to deal with the press? The angry world out there that will want you dead? How do you expect to fox this? How?" Lucius turned away from his son; yes, he couldn't bring himself to kill him, but he would definitely disown him.

"Father, I'll do what I must. I don't expect your help. I can't ask you for that. I can't ask you for anything. But I love her, and I don't care if the entire world disapproves."

As Hermione lay silently beneath the blue silk sheets on Draco's bed, she wondered what would happen tomorrow. Would the entire world know? What would happen? She looked over at Draco's bare back, which was slowly rising and falling with his breath. He had fallen asleep such a long time ago, yet she couldn't possibly fall asleep. Draco had seemed so stoic after his father had decided not to kill him. Didn't he care what the new day would bring?

"Hermione, go to sleep love. If you turn one more time, I might have to tie you down," Draco murmured from where he lay. He turned his head to look at her, his gray eyes amused and sleepy. Hermione smiled at him, and pulled the sheet closer to her warm body.

"Aren't you scared," Hermione asked after a few moments of quiet.

"Of what? The press? The people? The world? No. They don't know me, they don't know you, and they don't know us. I find it easy to not worry about what they have to say, since the lot of them write only for gossip mongers. Just get some sleep, because tomorrow will be a big day." A few moments later and Draco's breathing became steady and shallow. What on earth would the next day bring?

**A/N: This is not the end! Goodness me. One more chapter, that I will write awfully soon, and that will be it. **


	6. Chapter 6

**We Both Go Down Together**

**Disclaimer: **Is it ever mine? No. Nothing has changed.

**A/N:** LAST CHAPTER! I can barely control myself, as I'm sitting at the computer squeeing and bouncing and squeeing some more! I am so ecstatic to finally tie up the loose ends of this story. I haven't updated since Lord knows when, and I know you all must be upset, having to reread the first five chapters because it's been so long. I always hate when that happens. I've turned into the type of author I despise! Ahhh! Okay, so here it is. The END. It may not be good, it may not be fabulous, it may be utter crap, but I am so eager to finish it up. Now, on with the show!

_Meet me on my vast veranda_

_My sweet untouched Miranda,_

_And while the seagulls are crying_

_We fall, but our souls are flying_

_And O! My love, my love_

_My love, my love_

_We Both Go Down Together_

"Mr. Malfoy, is it true that the Muggle girl is pregnant with your child?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Is that why you are engaged?"

"Mr. Malfoy, are your reasons for proposal anything but love? Are you marrying the girl for pure sexual pleasure, nothing else?"

"Mr. Malfoy, how is your father taking this? Surely, he can't be pleased."

"Mr. Malfoy, what caused you to do something so outlandish, especially with the world being how it is?"

Draco's mind swam with the questions, and he was positive that he was on his way to a migraine. He had no clue on earth why these people had to ask so many bloody questions; couldn't they just make something up? They were bound to do it anyway. News folk were never known for their tendency to stick to the facts. Although, no one would really be interested in the facts of the Granger-Malfoy proposal, seeing as they really weren't that interesting to begin with.

And if it wasn't the screeches of questions, it was the flashbulb going off, snapping photos of a very annoyed Draco, who was standing, linking arms with a very distressed looking Hermione. Draco couldn't help glancing over at his fiancée, taking in her appearance in a very sensible black dress and black pumps. She looked like she was going to a funeral. Which it very well would be in a few moments; Draco was about to strangle the balding man in the front row who spit every time he made the 's' sound.

The couple was standing on the front porch of the manor, about to come out to wizarding society and release the information of their marriage proposal. It wasn't easy, not by far, standing up in front of people who were bound to scorn you in their articles, saying that you were a 'traitor' and that your fiancée was a 'whore'. If he had a choice, Draco would have kept the entire matter quiet, and spent the day, in bed, with Hermione. But that just doesn't work if your father is a well-respected, prestigious business-man and retired Death Eater.

"Please, please," Draco began, earning the silent attention of the reporters. "No more questions about the matter. At the moment, I am only willing to give out so much information, since this decision has also been quite sudden for me. I have proposed to Hermione Granger, a muggle-born witch, and we are planning to marry within the year. As far as we know, she is not with child, and any further matters involving our private life are really none of your business. I am very, very happy with Hermione, not to mention deeply, madly in love with her. This decision is one that _I _have made, not you, not your companies, I did. At the risk of sounding very unprofessional, if you don't like it, get over it."

Draco just short of _dragged_ Hermione back inside the manor, wanting to escape the annoying, vulture-like reporters. Or rather, like seagulls, the ones' who stole food and flocked around you when you went to visit the coast. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, and he leaned back, resting on it, panting slightly and out of breath. Only when he looked up did he notice that Hermione was staring at him with wanton appreciation and lust. She pressed herself firmly against his body, bringing him closer to the door, and crashed her mouth down on his. The kiss started out innocently, with a pent-up passion, but soon turned into an ardent, affectionate snog. Hermione slid her tongue along Draco's bottom lip, pleading for entry into his warm, wet mouth. He couldn't deny her anything, and his tongue met hers in a clash for dominance.

Hermione reached down between their bodies, cupping Draco's erection through his trousers. Draco definitely had the control in public, but she could do all this with one 'innocent' kiss.

"Have I not done enough just by letting my son marry you? You can't just have your wicked way with him in my foyer!" The couple, who were currently acting like lusty teenagers, blushed heavily at being caught by Lucius, practically dry humping in his front entranceway.

"My apologies, Mr. Malfoy."

"Sorry, father."

"Yes, well. If you wish to partake in _such_ activities, I would advise you to do them far, _very far_, from my sight," Lucius drawled in a manner so very similar to his son.

"Yes, father. We'll make sure not to be caught in such a compromising position again," Draco said, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. It took only a few seconds before he pulled Hermione away from the front door, and headed off towards his wing of the manor.

The day had been eventful, to say the least. Certainly, the Malfoy name would go down in history now, but for an entirely different reason than before. There was a sensation of falling, or perhaps flying, that took over all of Draco's emotion. He definitely would never be respected again in such a dark wizarding world. But he didn't need that respect to live. He needed Hermione, and that was what made everything better.

**A/N:** IT IS OVER! I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD SEE THE DAY! Now, review.


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